Field Trip
by MadBangel
Summary: After the events of No Reason, there's something House needs to do. HouseStacy.


**Field Trip**

By MadBangel

Author's Note: Yeah, this is unashamedly HouseStacy. It deals with similar issues to one of my other pieces They Don't Know. If you don't like HouseStacy, this is not the fic for you.That restricts my audience to roughly 4 people :)

1

He stood on the paved steps, leaning on a pillar and searching through the crowd of suits and briefcases, looking for a familiar pair of legs, a flash of shoulder-length dark hair.

Eventually, he spotted the shoes. He had no idea how he could tell it was her from shoes, but as soon as he saw them, he knew.

He left his pillar and headed towards the crowded area near the entrance. The noise levels seemed to rise as he approached, and he saw a man pushing through the crowd, covering himself with his coat to shield his face from the cameras, a suited presence guiding him through the crowd.

That wasn't her one, then.

She was alone, a little way off from the crowd. He sneaked up to a pillar near where she was standing, drinking her coffee.

"Hey."

She whirled at the sound of his voice, and found him leaning on the pillar behind her.

"Greg, what are you doing here?" she asked, her eyes raking down his body and noting the bandage on his neck and the absence of the cane.

"What happened to you?"

He chanced a look at her, then dropped his eyes.

"Uh, I got shot" he offered, his hands in his pockets. He didn't know what to do with them without the cane.

"Shot!" she exclaimed.

"I'm fine. Didn't hit anything important," he didn't want to discuss his injuries. He had come here on more important business.

"Who shot you?" she persisted.

"Disgruntled former patient. But that's not what I need to talk to you about."

"And your leg?" she wasn't going to let it go that quickly.

"Experimental treatment for chronic pain. 50 percentchance that the pain'll come back."

She forced him to meet her eyes.

"Dangerous?"

He quirked his lips in the affirmative.

"Yeah. But it was a risk I had to take," he told her, avoiding her eyes. She'd see too much in them.

She studied him, and saw what he wasn't saying anyway.

"Things were bad, weren't they?"

He stared at her shoes.

"Yeah. Even I didn't know just how bad," he confessed.

She looked at him, knowing how close she had come to losing him. She stared at the bandage on his neck and decided that he seemed okay, for now.

"The jury could come back at any moment," she warned him.

He nodded.

"I know. But I can't leave without telling you that I'm sorry. It's pathetic, but I can't think of any other way to say it," he admitted.

"Sorry for what?" she asked, tilting her head slightly.

"I….I don't blame you, for making the decision about my leg. I'm glad that you did it." He paused, the next words even more difficult to get out. "I'm….I'm grateful, that you did. And I am so sorry that I've been such an enormous jerk to you about it," he finished in a rush.

"What brought this on?" she asked, her brow furrowing in confusion and concern. This was not like her stubborn ex-boyfriend at all. Greg never admitted to being wrong.

"When I was shot, my subconscious got to give me a piece of my mind. And it wasn't pretty. All this time I've been avoiding facing up to myself, and I took it out on you just because I could," he told her shamefacedly, finally looking her in the eye.

"I've been the world's biggest ass, and for what it's worth, I'm sorry," he said, looking at the pavement again.

"Hey," she said tipping his chin to meet her eyes.

"I know what I did was unforgivable, so I'm not looking for that. I just needed you to know," he said, searching her brown eyes.

"I forgave you a long time ago, Greg," she told him, smiling gently.

"Why?" he asked, confused.

"Because I love you, you idiot," she told him, stroking the side of his face and smoothing his hair back.

"You shouldn't," he told her, reaching his hand up to still hers.

She grabbed his hand and entwined it firmly with her own.

"Let me be the judge of that."

She tugged him closer and was soon in her favourite place, wrapped snugly in his arms. They had always fit together so perfectly, and this, this was like coming home. She didn't want to let go.

"You better get back," he whispered gruffly to her.

"I know," she replied, but didn't make a move to go.

Slowly, she reached up and kissed him, softly caressing his lips with hers. The kiss started tender, but she quickly felt it begin to heat up her blood, her hands beginning to caress his body, his hands tangling in her hair, and she knew she had to end it. Things couldn't get passionate, not now.

She broke the kiss, and they held each other's gaze before breaking apart in unspoken agreement.

She turned and walked back to the courtroom. She turned and looked over her shoulder once, seeing him still standing there, and forced herself to turn around and keep walking. She would need to go to the ladies room to wash the tears away before she could go back before the judge.

He watched her until she disappeared inside before he turned to go.

The End.


End file.
